


Bad Day Gone Good

by RedHybernaculum



Category: Bright (2017)
Genre: Elf/Human Relationship(s), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 08:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13609107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedHybernaculum/pseuds/RedHybernaculum
Summary: Had a rough day? Hit the shower with Kandomere.





	Bad Day Gone Good

You come home late. Every damn person was getting on every one of your goddamn nerves. Your boss was being a dick, again! Your coworkers were not picking up their end of the slack. Even the flippin’ barista managed to incur your wrath with the completely wrong order. You were tired. All you wanted was to go to bed and get the day over with.

You came into the apartment, having fumbled with the keys for what seemed like an eternity before getting the ridiculous, infuriating lock to disengage. Kandomere was in the kitchen, cooking something that might have been delicious if you had even the slightest inclination to put nutrients into your body, but even that was a foreign concept at this point.

“You’re late.” he said over his shoulder as you passed the kitchen, a bit of irritation in his voice.

“Yep,” you spat at him, and headed for the bathroom.

He paused over the boiling pot. That wasn’t your normal tone. He was accustomed to a more cloying response at pretty much any time of the day or night. You were head-over-heels for him and he knew it. He loved it actually. Elves were always such a reserved people, which meant that your passion for him truly struck a chord in his weary heart. So many years in isolation, completely wrapped up in his work, making himself too busy to have a significant other almost purposefully. He was taken aback by the purity and depth of your desire.

This wasn’t you. He snapped the knob into the off position and set the pot on an unused burner.

You turned on the water in the tub and let it run. The roar of the water drowning out the noise in your mind, you began to peel the layers off of your skin. The tired muscles protesting. The tired mind slipping into autopilot. You weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to scream or cry or scream because you wanted to cry.

As you entered the cascade, steam rose, your skin felt alive again. Every bead of water rolling across your body nudged and coaxed. You wanted to feel bad for snapping at your boyfriend, but the remorse just wouldn’t come. A mental numbness seemed the only attractive avenue.

You heard the door click closed beyond the shower curtain. Was he going to yell too? Was Kandomere going to lecture and berate? You stood directly under the downpour, hair, soggy, gathering around your face. You waited.

It was a few moments before you felt the cool outer air whirl around in the steam as he entered the shower. You said nothing, keeping your back to him. You felt afraid and beaten and there wasn’t a single fiber of your being willing to fight another second.

His hands smoothed over your shoulders first. His lips met your shoulder softly, tentatively. Then his body, his broad chest to your back, strong and steadying.

He pressed a few more kisses to your shoulder before resting his chin and bringing his arms around you, “I promise I won’t be upset if you tell me to get the fuck out of here.”

Hearing him use the word fuck so casually would have normally made you smile. It warmed something in you, made him more approachable, more human in a way, something about such a low-brow word coming out of such a high-brow person. You couldn’t muster a response, just continued to hang your head.

He pulls your hair back and lays kisses against your neck, getting himself closer to your ear, “Do you wish to be left alone, my love?”

You shook your head silently.

Soft lips over sharp teeth, trailing over your skin. Fingers kneading your biceps and shoulders and neck. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t need to. He only gave to you that which restored life, his devotion and affections.

You close your eyes, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. The frivolous shower poof, soapy and slick, is drawn across your collar bones, scratching lightly. Suds spill down your form in the warm spray of the shower head. Over your breasts and down your waist. Across your tail bone and up your spine, taking a few lingering moment to press more firmly into your shoulders, before gliding appreciatively down each arm and back up.

Kandomere sinks down behind you, tilting his head to kiss down your hip. The poof sliding down each leg. You try to turn and face him. You want to pull him up to his feet and kiss him and tell him your sorry for being in such a bad mood. The second he senses your movement he nips at your outer thigh. It may be your bath, but he is still in charge.

He stands again and coaxes you forward, the water washing away the bubbles and all of the day. For the moment the only thing in the universe that exists is this tiny oasis.

As rivulets collide his hand slips between your legs.

Well manicured fingers splaying you searching for that sweet spot, nestled deep between your thighs. The rapture as he finds what he looking for, lingering strokes, methodical, precise, you moan.

He doesn’t tease, doesn’t edge. He simply comforts. His fingers like magic, his kisses like a healing balm. It is silence, but for the water and the appreciative noises he entices from your lips.

When you cum, your legs begin to shake and buckle. Kandomere’s arms hold you close until the spasms subside and your mind is calm. For a long while he keeps you close. You are his, a rare creature, deserving of his focus and ardent care.


End file.
